


Indigo Home

by jimkrk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also best buds Keith and pidge because i live for that, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Minor Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, dont worry though i cant stand this dude and/or this pairing i just included it for Reasons, keith is also being SUPER ANGSTY and pushes lance away, mixtapes, they/them pronouns for Pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimkrk/pseuds/jimkrk
Summary: Lance and Keith have been friends since they were kids.Keith has feelings for Lance and decides to make him a mixtape.Lance doesn't think its from Keith.Keith does not know how to deal with that and messes everything up.





	Indigo Home

**Author's Note:**

> im kinda bad at summaries to be honest my dudes  
> i just hope u guys like this lmao it took me such a long time to write

He’s never been this nervous before. 

It's just a small envelope with Lance's name on it, written in big, capital Letters. This, and a packaged CD. That's all.

Keith takes a deep breath, his hand tightening around the handle of Lance's locker, not daring ot open it.

He looks left, he looks right, then he pulls the locker open and throws it all in there. He shuts the door and finally lets out the breath he's been holding.

Too late now, is what he thinks. His brain is screaming at him to take it back, to just forget about the entire thing. Too late now.

 

Keith stares at his biology textbook, the letters blurring into each other. He’s stuck reading the first paragraph over and over, words that don’t seem to have a meaning and sentences strung together in a nonsensical way. His hands are clammy, they feel shaky and he wonders when Hunk and Pidge will start to notice that he’s nervous. He lifts his head and watches them, Pidge seems caught up in their homework and Hunk is focused on whatever he’s researching on his laptop.

He decides that returning to his textbook is a waste of time, so he sends it flying to his backpack next to the bed and startles Hunk.

“What the – “ Hunk starts before loud stomping interrupts him. It’s coming closer and getting louder, increasing Keith’s heart rate to the point where he thinks it’s audible to everyone in the room.

“It’s probably Allura.” Hunk pauses, “I wonder if she’s bringing Shiro along.”

Pidge groans. “Oh, will you shut up.”

The stomping stops and there’s Allura, opening the door with a bright smile on her face. “Lance’s got a secret admirer!” She exclaims and steps aside, revealing a blushing Lance behind her.

And Keith’s heart stops.

“You’re kidding,” Pidge huffs from their spot on the floor, not bothering to look up.

His heart literally stops beating.

“Our little Lance?” Hunk asks with a fond look in his eyes.

He doesn’t know how to breathe, doesn’t know how to look away from Lance.

“Our little Lance,” Allura confirms, her smile widening. She steps into the room and flops down on the bed, setting her backpack down on the ground. Lance follows her and sits down as well, clutching his backpack to his chest.

He is glowing and Keith can’t move his gaze away from him, can’t form words to say.

Pidge finally closes their notebook and sets their pencil aside. “So, what happened?”

Tension spreads through Keith’s body and he’s finally breathing again. Inhaling and exhaling as if it’s no big deal.

“There was a mixtape and a letter in my locker.” Lance answers, beaming with pride. “I haven’t listened to the mixtape yet, though.”

“What does the letter say?” Keith asks, his body finally cooperating with his brain.

Before he can respond, Hunk leans forward on his chair and snatches the backpack from his grip. Lance whines but doesn’t attempt to get it back from him. He fishes out a CD with a piece of paper taped around it. Careful not to rip the paper, he peels off the tape and sets the CD aside. He straightens the letter and clears his throat.

“Dear Lance,” he reads, “I know this might be weird, but I made a mixtape for you. Other people are better writers than I am so they’re probably conveying what I’m feeling for you better than I ever could. So please, let the songs speak for me.”

There’s silence. Hunk neatly folds the paper. “I think we should listen to it.”

“But those songs are especially for Lance. We shouldn’t be listening to them.” Keith disagrees, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as ragged as he feels.

“It’s alright, Keithyboy.” Lance waves him off, “We should all listen to this together. Might help me figure out who made it.”

Hunk had already put the CD into the slot and was now looking through its’ tracklist on his laptop. “Oh man, this is really cheesy, like actually, totally, unbelievably cheesy,” He laughs. “Whoever made this must be really into you.”

 

The last notes of Coldplay’s Yellow fade into nothingness and leaves everyone in the room stunned. No one says anything for a while, busy over-analysing every single word they heard. Keith’s chest tightens with every second passing in silence.

“Any idea who it could be?” Allura eventually asks. “Anyone you know?”

Lance shrugs. “Could be, but maybe I should wait until something else happens. They might make a second mixtape if I don’t figure it out soon.”

“Maybe they’ll ask you out next. That would be super romantic,” Allura says and Keith feels her stare boring into him. She knows. She knows. She knows.

“Let’s hope so,” Lance doesn’t know.

 

When Colleen calls them for dinner, Lance excuses himself, saying he’s got to help his dad at home. He thanks Colleen for the kind invitation and motions for Keith to leave as well since they always go home together after school or their study sessions.

He scrambles up to get his backpack and shoes when Hunk interrupts him. “Wait. Keith, you promised to help me with chemistry. I have a test tomorrow.” He doesn’t remember making such a promise, considering he straight up sucks at chemistry.

“You didn’t tell me about that.” Lance mutters, actually looking hurt. I don’t tell you about a lot of things, is what Keith thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead, he apologizes with a weak smile and a sinking feeling in his chest.

They lead him to the door and say their goodbyes, Keith lingering a little longer, watching the boy make his way down the street until he turns around the corner, out of his sight. He winces when Colleen calls them again, saying that their food will get cold if they wait any longer. Allura gently nudges him and they eventually join Hunk and Pidge in the kitchen.

“What was that about helping you with chemistry? You know I only barely passed last year.” Keith asks, grabbing a plate and filling it with spaghetti.

Hunk waits with his response until he gets the noodles to stay on his fork. “I don’t want you to help me with chemistry.”

He rolls his eyes and sits down next to Pidge. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Actually,” Hunk says, his voice distorted by the spaghetti in his mouth, “I only want to know one thing.”

“Go on.”

“Did you make that mixtape?” Keith stops chewing and his mind zeroes down to one thing. They know. They know. They know.

He turns to Allura after he’s swallowed. “I told you not to tell them anything!”

Her brows draw together. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Wait, she knew?” Hunk whines, obviously jealous. “That’s so unfair.”

“She came up with it,” Keith admits, casting his eyes down to the plate in front of him. When no one answers, another question pops into his head, “How’d you know?”

“That was super easy.” Hunk answers. “Lately, you’ve been acting really weird around Lance, that’s when we first figured something was up.”

“Wait, ‘we’?” Everyone knows and Keith’s bravado is officially dead.

“Pidge and me. Hell, probably even Shiro.” He coughs. “Well, anyways, Allura wouldn’t tell us anything, which made it even more suspicious because she always tells us everything. And today was a whole new level of weird. You couldn’t even look away from him and don’t you think we didn’t notice that.”

Pidge mumbles something that sounded a lot like ‘Lance didn’t notice for sure’ and Hunk catches up with a “Lance wouldn’t notice his secret admirer if he were to sit right in front of him.” Which is, ironically, exactly what happened.

 

Later that evening he gets a text from Lance saying, ‘call me when u get back home’. Keith doesn’t call him. He probably wants to talk about the secret admirer thing, which is the last thing Keith wants to talk about right now, or ever again. 

His eyes are tearing from staring at his phone, reading through Lance’s and his old messages. He tries to fool himself into believing that Lance texts him differently, that he’s more affectionate with him than with anyone else. He tries to fool himself into believing a lie because it’s the most effective way to deal with things he has no control over.

The buzz of his phone shakes him out of his thoughts. It’s another message from Lance, ‘did u get home safely?? im worried u didnt call or text me’.

Keith answers with a short text telling him not to worry. He sighs deeply and rolls onto his back so he’s facing the ceiling. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

 

Lance’s words ring in his head like a broken record. Maybe he should make another mixtape, maybe this one just really wasn’t obvious enough, maybe it wasn't such a stupid idea at all.

Keith shouldn’t be blaming Lance, it had to be his own fault.

And God, Keith wants him to know. He wants to be as obvious as possible without actually having to make himself vulnerable, without putting himself on the spot. If Lance figures it out, he could choose to be quiet about it or to confront Keith.

As easy as that.

Keith wouldn't have to deal with actively being rejected or Lance would tell him that his feelings were the same.

As easy as that.

He flips open his laptop, opens his listening history and adds every song that reminds him of Lance.

It's really all he's been thinking about these days. Lance, Lance, Lance.

 

He’s nearly shaking with anxiety when Lance notices the second mixtape in his locker. “Keith, look!” The boy exclaims, holding the mixtape in Keith’s face. “D’you want to listen to it after school?”

He nods because that’s what best friends are for, right? 

After school, they squeeze onto Lance’s tiny bed, both too tired to actually keep themselves upright on a chair. Lance’s warmth comforts Keith and his eyelids grow heavy. He must’ve noticed because he pinches Keith’s arm and puts the CD into his laptop.

As soon as Lance presses shuffle, Keith tenses. The first song is the one he’d originally intended to be the last one, the one that’s the most obvious, the one he associates with one of his favourite moments he’d shared with Lance.

When they were still freshmen, they’d spent a weekend at the beach with both their families. He had watched Lance swimming and laughing whenever a wave crashed against him until he came out of the water and joined Keith on the sun loungers they’d rented earlier that day.

Keith offered him one of his headphones so they could listen to music together. Lance accepted with a smile, then closed his eyes, focusing on the music.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop looking at Lance. His wet hair, hanging down to his brows, his eyelashes, with small drops of water still caught in them and his skin, tanned and covered in freckles that looked like hundreds of small constellations. He took it all in, every single detail.

“I wish we could do this more often,” Lance said, opening his eyes again and they were so big and bright, Keith was sure he could get lost in them.

“What? Lying in the sun?” Keith asked, completely missing the point.

Lance shook his head, smiling. “No, I mean going to the beach, just the two of us. It’s nice.”

“Yes, it’s…” He paused, “really nice.”

They were just looking at each other for a while, the music playing silently, nearly drowning in the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

“But everyone knew that your gaze was my home” Keith sang along if it only was to make Lance smile. It was true, in a way that Keith did not realize at that point.

 

It wasn’t until the last song that Lance reacted. He rolled over to face Keith. “I think I know who made it.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up, “Tell me.” They were lying face-to-face, their noses almost touching, their legs pressed against each other. He wanted Lance to know so badly.

“This might sound stupid, but I think it’s Lotor from physics class.” Keith feels his face fall against his will. If Lance noticed, he doesn’t say anything. “You know? The one I told you about last week. He’s been smiling at me all the way through class and I think he likes me.” 

For a short moment everything looks the way it does in dreams, clear but a bit blurry, like it could change into something else at any second. He doesn’t know what to say.

He’s absolutely tongue-tied. Mute. Verging on brain-dead.

“That’s great, Lance,” Keith says eventually, forcing a smile. “You should talk to him sometime.” What is he doing?

“Yeah,” He answers. “I probably should.”

Keith sits up, pressing his back against the wall, trying to get as much space as possible between him and Lance. Suddenly feeling way out of place, as if he's invading Lance's personal space. There's no reason for it, but Keith thinks that if he gets too close, or even touches Lance, that he might break.

Not Lance, but Keith. 

A single touch would shatter his skin and muscles and bones and everything inside of him inch by inch. It's not fair to Lance and Keith is way too aware of that. 

At this point, he’s sure that Lance knows, but doesn’t want to say it, that he’s deliberately naming someone else so he won’t have to deal with Keith’s feelings. It hurts and Lance doesn’t want him. He doesn’t want him. He doesn’t want him.

 

He wants Lance to be happy, of course he does. 

 

Keith is slowly trying to distance himself from Lance and it hurts like hell. Every time Lance looks at him, his smile falters a little more. Everytime Lance is close to him, his body aches, making him physically sick.

They still walk home together, but Keith starts to hold himself back around him.

They're in the cafeteria when Lance confronts him for the first time.

“Keith?” He doesn’t want to talk, maybe he can let this one slide and just sit in silence. His eyes are glued to the wall on the opposite side of the room and he's wildly stirring the spoon in his bowl of cereal. “Keith!” There’s the voice once more and he thinks maybe this time he won’t be able to just ignore it. There’s a sigh and again, “Keith!” 

“Hmm?” He blinks and slowly turns his head upward to look at Lance. Maybe not directly at him, but at the ceiling above him. 

“You good?” Lance sits down in front of him, carefully eyeing his every movement.

“Oh, I – Yeah.” Keith casts his eyes down at his lap and pushes his food away from him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He mumbles, his voice a little flatter this time.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I must’ve zoned out a little." _Just tell me you don't want me, let me down easy, stay with me if only as a friend_ is what he thinks but doesn’t say. Thoughts like that have been crossing his mind for weeks now. They got louder when he gave Lance the first mixtape, they became unbearable when Lance told him about Lotor with a smile on his face.

“But I mean, like, in general? Are you okay?” He doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want to see the disappointment in Lance's eyes.

“Never been better.” A smile strains on his lips and he forces himself to look up. At the very least, he wants to seem believable.

For a moment there, Lance looks like he’s going to collapse into himself, then he takes a deep breath. “Don’t lie to me.” He grits out.

“’m not.” He’s lying straight through his teeth. “Everything’s just fine. I’m _good_.” 

“Keith, you know I’m –“ Lance starts, but Keith interrupts him.

He gets up and takes his untouched bowl of cereal. “I’m sorry, but I really have to get going right now.” He turns around to leave.

"What's this about?" Lance's voice rises, a couple heads in the cafeteria turn towards them. He stands up as well, walking towards Keith, his tall frame cornering him. "Why are you avoiding me?"

His eyes bore into Keiths', searching for something, for an answer.

To Keith, however, it all feels like cold-sweat and a heavy panic, like everything’s closing in around him. Inching closer and closer and closer, suffocating.

But it’s not, it’s not that. It can’t be that, because nothing’s coming closer. Nothing at all.

It’s just Lance.

Just Lance who's asking a question he can't answer.

This can't be happening. This can't be happening. He repeats it in his head. This can't be happening. He feels his heart beating in his chest, his throat tightening, goose bumps forming all over his arms, hair standing on end.

"I-, I-..." He stutters, high-pitched voice nearly doubling over with the effort not to cry right there, his eyes burning.

Lance is still looking at him, wondering. "What did I do to you, Keith."

"It's not you." Keith chokes out. 

He hadn't ever, in any scenario, imagined Lance to react like this. He'd imagined silent agreement, maybe even relief from Lance's side. Relieved to finally be free from Keith's smothering self. But not this.

A flash of hurt strikes Lance's face, and he looks defeated.

"I'm just giving you the space you need." Keith then finally says after a pause. He doesn't say what he wants to say. 

_I'm sorry if I smothered you, I'm sorry I fell for you, I'm sorry I'm ruining our friendship, I never wanted this to happen, but of course it was bound to happen, I ruin everything I touch and I'm scared I'll fall apart if I ever feel your skin beneath my fingers again._

He's going to be sick.

Lance drops his gaze to the floor, "oh."

Oh.

 

 

“What the hell is going on with you two?” Allura asks him later that week when they’re in the library.

Keith looks up from his book. “What do you mean?”

She lowers her voice and leans in close to him, “What’s going on between you…” she stills, looking at Lance, who’s listening to music at the other end of the table, “and him?”

“Nothing’s going on between us,” he states, lowering his voice as well. 

Allura rolls her eyes. “Tell that to Lance.” Keith raises his eyebrows. “He’s been a little freaked out lately, all because you’ve been avoiding him.”

“So?”

“He doesn’t know what’s wrong so he blames everything on himself,” She swallows. “Even though it’s your fault.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to say this is all my fault,” Keith states, defensively crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You’re the one who’s ignoring him, you’re being an asshole and you’re hurting him.”

He considers this for a moment, knowing that she’s right. He knows she only wants the best for the both of them. But just to spite her, he says, “I honestly couldn’t care less right now.” 

He cares. He cares so much that it hurts, “There’s more important things going on at the moment that I need to focus on. Like exams and stuff,” He notices Lance’s hand twitching from the corner of his eye. 

He gathers his book (he's reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea for what has to be the fifteenth time. The same old copy. Bent and water-damanged and ancient. Keith is surprised it isn't falling apart) and phone and gets up. He doesn’t say a word to anyone as he shoves his things into his backpack. 

Outside, the sun is already setting, the parked bicycles cast long shadows across the ground.

For a split second he wonders if Lance heard. 

 

He heard. 

They don’t walk home from school together anymore. It starts out with the both of them not talking, Keith has his headphones in, music on full volume. Lance waves goodbye, Keith gives him a curt nod.

Then, Lance stops waiting for him after school and he walks alone, even though Keith is in sight. They walk ten meters apart from each other and it’s awkward, Keith stopping whenever Lance slows down and the other way around.

Eventually, Keith decides to take a different way home, it’s longer, but he’s walking with Hunk and Pidge and he doesn’t have to see Lance anymore. It’s a nice distraction and they don’t ask questions. They talk about school and their future, about anything but Lance and Keith is thankful for it.

Their study sessions are just as awkward. They sit as far apart as possible and make it weird for everyone involved.

Whenever someone asks if they’re okay, they insist that they’re just fine, when they’re clearly not. But neither of them make any attempt to change it, so it can’t possibly be that bad. 

At least for Lance, is what Keith tells himself.

It's getting worse by the day and he wonders when Lance is going to snap.

 

It’s three weeks after Keith made the second mixtape and placed in Lance’s locker when Lance shows up at his house in the middle of the night. His hair is a mess and his shoes are untied. He’s smiling so bright, bouncing up and down and Keith is almost sure he’s never seen him happier. At the same time, Keith wants him to leave.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Lance grins, his eyes lighting up. He doesn’t want to hear it, whatever it is.

“Couldn’t you have just texted me? It's really late.” He’s surprised at how harsh his voice sounds. The boy immediately stills and his smile vanishes in an instant. Keith fucked up. “Fuck, Lance. I’m sorry. I’m just really tired and I didn’t mean to –“ His voice falters, leaving him hanging with an unfinished apology.

“No, it’s okay. I get it.” Lance looks at him with a painfully open expression on his beautiful face and Keith feels defeated. “You don’t want me here, that's what you meant when you said you wanted to give me my space, right? I should have known that, maybe gotten the hint a little earlier.” Every word feels like losing. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts and the feeling in his chest won’t leave. This was never what he meant, this was never what he wanted. 

Lance’s jaw twitches and his face goes blank. “The others thought it would be a good idea to tell you, but you actually don’t really care about me anymore, am I right?”

A pause, a few terrible pings of silence carried on by the night breeze.

“Thank you for your time, Keith.” Is what Lance says, still not looking away from him. And he’s so, so present. Right fucking there. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. But he knows he’s been a shitty friend, he knows he deserves this and so much worse. 

Keith scoffs and tries his best to level him with a smoldering, cruel smirk even though his eyes are shining with the humiliating onset of tears. “I’ll find out anyway, so what gives.” He says, shrugging, hoping he sounds positively acidic.

“No doubt you will.” Lance’s eyes were glistening with tears as well and Keith feels his face fall against his will. Feels his fire fade to embers. 

He’s never had to hold himself back around Lance. But he’s holding it back now, trying to ram the weight of his body against a door in his soul and keep the flood safely locked away. He’s shaking with the effort, water seeping through the cracks. But he’s got to hold it back.

“I’ll see you at school.” Lance turns around and leaves, his shoulders immediately slump down, his head hangs low. 

This is wrong, this is all wrong.

Keith wipes furiously at his eyes and leans against the door to take a few deep and centering breaths. He’s sniffling, his eyes are burning and itchy, his tears are too hot. He wants to go after him, tell him that he’s sorry, tell him that he didn’t mean it, but he doesn’t. He would force out words, trying for an apology, but his chance would shatter the moment the words leave his mouth. Every single word would sound wrong, and he’s too bitter and too angry at this moment. So he stays right there until his entire body is shaking and his legs almost give in. 

 

He finds out four days later when a tall boy with broad shoulders and nearly white hair leans against Lance’s locker. He’s smiling down at him, his hand on Lance’s waist. His heart starts beating too fast, he feels his throat closing in.

He’s going to be sick. Jealousy is raging inside of him and he’s going to be sick.

He clenches his his fingers against the trembling feeling beneath his skin.

“Who’s that?” He asks Pidge, who’s waiting to go to class with him.

“You should know,” Pidge answers, an annoyed undertone laces their voice.

Keith closes his locker and turns to Pidge. “How am I supposed to know?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” His friend looks dumbfounded.

“No, he didn’t.” Or maybe he would have if Keith hadn’t been such an asshole. He winces at the memory of the look on Lance’s face right before he left.

“Oh,” Pidge says, gently grabbing him by the arm and leading him toward their classroom, “So, that’s Lotor, their first date was three days ago and it seemed to have gone pretty well, considering that Lance’s all heart eyes around him.”

“That’s…” Keith doesn’t know how to end the sentence. 

“Amazing for him, not so amazing for you?” Pidge supplies and Keith nods. “Well, it’s your own damn fault, my friend.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Keith turns his head to look at them, but Pidge is looking at the ground. “He always talked about you as if you hung the goddamn moon and stars. He fucking admired you. But you? You can’t control your crush and start to actually hurt him to the point where he comes to us, crying about you.”

“He cried?” 

“He didn’t, but might as well have.” They enter the classroom and their conversation dies down. Keith doesn’t know what to say or what to think. 

His thoughts are racing, he barely notices the teacher calling out his name for attendance. 

That’s what Lance had wanted him to know, that he asked Lotor out. Or that Lotor asked him out? He doesn’t know what he’d prefer. 

They used to tell each other everything, way before Keith developed a crush on him, way before they were just ten years old. When he’d pushed Lance during a fight on the playground of their elementary school and ruined his brand new jeans. He’d had to escort him to the school nurse and explain what happened. Keith had apologized profusely and promised to bring cookies to school the next day, Lance’s face had lit up and they just went from there. It had always been just them, and nothing and no one could come between them.

Except for Keith himself.

And God, when did Keith become such a self-absorbed asshole? 

 

He officially meets Lotor face-to-face, when he brushes past him in the hallways, hitting him in the shoulder instead of stepping aside, Lance following two steps behind him.

"Watch where you're going." Lotor clips and Keith doesn't say anything, doesn't even turn around.

He doesn't know how Lance could be with someone who doesn't know that Lance's soul can't be held by just flesh and bone, someone who doesn't know that Lance is radiant and vibrant and thrumming and golden and shines on everyone around him, with someone who dulls Lance.

He doesn't even know how Lance could be with such an asshole.

 

After a while Lotor joins them in their study lessons and Keith absolutely despises him. He’s so fucking nice to the others and it’s driving him crazy. 

Even though the others greet him with smiles and polite handshakes, Keith wonders if they think the same as him. 

 

His suspicions are confirmed when Pidge invites him to stay longer for dinner and conspiracy theory youtube videos, which earned a foreseeable round of groans from their friends and a tight-lipped smile from Lotor. 

“I can’t stand this dude.” They say in between bites, eyes fixed on the TV-screen.

Keith chuckles. “That youtuber? He’s alright, I guess. We’ve definitely seen worse than this.”

“No, dumbass.” Pidge turns to him, setting their plate down on their lap. “I mean Lotor. He’s… off. I don’t know. Hunk said the same.”

“Thought I was the only one.”

They snort. “That might just be you pining, though. I’m serious when I say –“

“I’m not-!”

“You’re pining.” Pidge states matter-of-factly.

“I’m pining.”

“Seriously, though. There’s something weird about this guy and I’m gonna find out what it is.”

“Good.” Keith says, he means it.

“I’m not doing this for your sake, Keith. This is for Lance and Lance only.”

He knows this. He knows that Pidge knows. “Does it really seem like I only care about my own well-being?” This has to be it.

“Do you want me to be honest?” 

With a sinking feeling in his chest he nods, his eyes not meeting theirs.

“Sometimes, yes. And God, I wish it didn’t.”

 

It was Hunk's idea. 

He'd suggested it would be fun for them to go to the beach over the weekend, after all, school was cancelled for monday and Lance's parents did own a small cabin there.

It didn't feel right to Keith, sharing the spot that used to be something only he and Lance shared with all of their friends. He still agreed to come, for their sake.

When Lance announced he'd be bringing Lotor, as he felt that they were slowly moving towards a more serious stage in their relationship, the floor slipped away under Keith's feet. He was spiralling against his will. His friends' eyes were all on him, staring right at him, while he was looking at Lance.

And Lance wouldn't meet Keith's gaze. 

 

They're already loading their bags into Allura's minivan when they see Lance approaching from a distance, his bag slung tightly over his chest. He's talking to someone on the phone, visibly annoyed, his voice agitated.

"Now, isn't this just a great way to start the trip." Pidge mutters from the front seat, having called shotgun faster than Keith could even register their presence, their bags already securely loaded into the car.

Lance pockets his phone and sighs loudly when he reaches them.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Hunk asks teasingly, wagging his eyebrows. It takes him only a split second to realise that he'd said the wrong thing.

Lance's face hardens, he's clenching his jaw. "Oh, he's not coming."

Pidge leans out of the window, twisting their neck at an angle that must be more than uncomfortable. "Why, though? What's wrong?" Their voice sounds concerned, in their own way, but with their sunglasses on, it's impossible to know if they're actually being sincere.

Keith bets they're silently celebrating.

"We had a fight this morning, nothing big, though. He just said he needed some space. That's understandable, I guess."

Lance wasn't even looking in his direction, but Keith feels like the last part was aimed directly at him. The disappointed undertone that laced Lance's voice was hard to miss.

Maybe, is what Keith tries to tell himself, to not let himself feel gutted by the guilt, this abolutely isn't about him. Maybe this is really just between Lance and Lotor, and what Keith said to Lance didn't play any part in it at all. 

"I'm sorry, that sucks." Keith says, before his brain even computes what he just did. His mouth was moving without thinking and it just slipped. Oh god, his mind is racing, oh god, oh god.

Lance looks at him, really looks at him, for the first time in weeks. For the first time since Lance showed up at his door in the middle of the night, all happy and radiating energy, and left, tears shining in his eyes.

It hurt and Keith wishes it wasn't so goddamn hard to maintain eye contact, wishes that not every single cell in his body screamed at him to look away.

He wishes he wasn't so fucking pathetic.

"Anyway," Lance starts, "we should get going, don't wanna be late." With that, he throws his bag in the trunk and climbs into the car.

There was nothing to be late for, but no one mentioned it. The air around them feels tense and Keith lingers for a little while until he finally gets his shit together and sits down next to Hunk.

He falls asleep as soon as his head touches Hunk's shoulder. It'd been a restless night, he'd been awake, tossing and turning, playing through every single scenario that could happen involving Lotor and Lance during the trip. At one point he almost threw up and that had been it for him.

He'd almost cancelled the trip entirely. While this wasn't as absoluletly horrible as he thought it was going to be, it was still eating away at him. 

 

The sun shines down on him as he's resting on his bathing towel, feet buried under warm sand, waves crashing not too far away from him. A sound that would never not calm him down.

He's watching his friends play in the water, splashing each other, shoving each other into the waves, laughing, having fun.

In the ideal version of this, Keith would join them, have fun like there's nothing bothering him, he'd apologize to Lance and clear things up and they'd just go back to the way it was before.

He's surprised that his mind is still skewed like this, even when he knows that it won't be that easy. 

 

Usually, he'd be sharing a room with Lance, but it's not like he'd prepared for it anyways. Hunk took it up to share with Lance, so now Keith was sharing with Pidge and Allura, letting them sleep on the beds and staying on the floor himself.

Pidge is practising their guitar and Allura is absentmindedly painting Keith's nails while she listens to him whine about Lance. Sometimes she nods, or gives a hum of approval, but Keith is just glad to vent.

"It's like he doesn't even care, you know." Keith says, eyeing his nails. Hot red and jet-black, it looks good on him.

The steady strum of music stops abruptly, Pidge sets their guitar down way too hard, the noise making him wince. "You don't mean that."

Keith doesn't answer. He doesn't really know if he believes it, he just keeps telling himself that this might not be hurting Lance at all.

"Tell me you don't fucking mean that, Keith." Pidge is looking at him now and he doesn't know how to respond. "You know I try to be supportive of your poor life choices, right?"

He nods, he knows. "But god, Keith. You need to get your shit together. He doesn't care about anyone as much as he cares about you, it's always been just you, you, you. He's been going on about how fucking great you are before I even met you."

"I'm sorry." His chest tightens. "I promise -"

"Don't." Pidge growls. "Don't fucking make promises you don't want to keep." 

There's a pause, he hears Allura shifting uncomfortably.

"Listen, he cares so much and he still does. I know he wouldn't want me to tell you but it's something you should have figured out yourself at this point. Just pull your head out of your ass and start apologizing to him."

He knows Pidge is right and he knows they care a bout him and he knows they've been friends for years, but there's still this sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I'm trying." He whispers, mostly to himself.

"Well? Then try harder, because this shit," they gesture wildly around with their hands, "isn't gonna cut it. I'm sick of you pretending to be the victim in this because you can't admit your crush to him."

Keith doesn't disagree.

"They're right, Keith." Allura says silently, squeezing his hand.

"I know."

"You need to talk to Lance." She sighs. "We planned to go out to a bar to drink some tomorrow, maybe try it there if you don't wanna do it here in front of everyone. Just… talk to him, alright?"

He hums, not daring to open his mouth to answer properly. It's set in stone now, he's gonna talk to Lance, no matter what.

 

It turns out, talking to Lance is a lot harder than he thought.

It was midday when Lance got a phonecall from Lotor, which ended with a lot of yelling and Lance sitting on the porch, stone-faced, staring at nothing for a couple of hours.

Keith tried to invite him to come along to the beach with them, to get his mind off of things, but Lance didn't even react. He slowly blinked twice, a vacant look in his eyes, and Keith didn't know what else to say.

The others tried as well, but didn't get much more of a reaction out of him.

Keith offered to stay in the cabin and just watch some tv, while the others went to the beach, so Lance wouldn't be on his own.

After an hour, Lance entered the cabin again, his cheeks rosy and his hair sticking off into every direction. He makes his way up to the stairs, and then stops.

"Keith? Could you tell me when the others want to go out tonight? I wouldn't wanna miss it."

Keith doesn't turn around, but he hears how soft Lance's voice sounds and it actually makes him feel like he's melting.

"Of course, Lance."

Then, he listens to Lance slowly making his way up the stairs and into his room.

 

It was seven months ago in fall when Keith first realized that he had feelings for Lance.

He was standing in line at a café, rain pouring against the windows, a soft indie song playing in the background, Lance's voice in his ears.

They were talking on the phone, Lance was complaining about his math exam the next week. 

"There's no way I'm going to pass, Keith. No way! Pidge even said I am a hopeless case!"

Keith chuckled. "I'm sure they were just being an asshole as usual."

"That's not the point! I'm gonna die!" Lance did sound devastated.

"You won't, trust me. I'll help you."

"Not even your help can save me right now."

It was almost Keith's turn in line.

"Lance, I gotta go, I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Keeeeeeeeith, don't go."

"I have to." It was hard to supress the smile that crept onto his face.

"Alright, fine, leave. I'm sure whatever you're going to do is worth letting me literally die here."

Keith laughed silently and ended the call. He ordered a black coffee for himself and a caramel latte, Lance's favourite.

Once outside, he pulled his raincoat over himself and opened his umbrella, slowly making his way through the rain towards Lance's house.

Lance's mother opened the door with a smile on her face. "I don't know what Lance would do without you." She said, helping him out of the raincoat. 

"Me neither." Keith admitted, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks.

"I'll be in the living room, just call for me if you need anything, alright Keith?"

"Always." He watched her leave and pulled out his phone. 3 missed calls from Lance. Alright.

He pressed Lance's contact and it didn't even take five seconds for Lance to answer.

"I died." Is what he said instantly.

"Cool." Keith answers, slowly walking up the stairs, careful not to make any noises. He wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. "You know what? I could really go for a coffee right now, but since you're dead, there's nothing I can do."

"Coffee? Holy shit, Keith. I'll be right there, I'll come by your place and we'll go get some, okay? I'll call you!"

Keith smiled when he heard rumbling in Lance's room from what he could only assume was Lance trying to find and put on his shoes and a raincoat.

He propped himself up infront of Lance's door, holding the coffee in one hand and the other behind his back.

Lance pulled the door open, and his face, god, his face. Keith almost dropped the coffee. He looked so happy, and so, so stunning.

It wasn't the first time Keith had noticed how good Lance looked. He figured out he was gay at 15 and he and Lance had been friends since they were 5, so 10 years and more, of just looking at Lance and wondering why he found especially Lance to be so good-looking and not the girls in their classes.

But this time, it really hit him. His bright smile, his blue eyes, his tousled hair, his freckles. The peach jumper thats too big for him and keeps falling off his shoulder, the untied docs on his feet.

His knees nearly gave in.

"Keith!" Lance said, bouncing up and down. "This is the best surprise ever, oh my god, I love you, man."

At this point Keith was blushing furiously, his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

"Anything to be your knight in shining armor."

Lance laughed, throwing his head back. "More like my knight in wet clothes. Come in, I'll get you a blanket." He wrapped his arm around Keith's shoulders and led him inside, taking the coffee from him and setting it down on the desk.

"You might need a new pullover, though. Jeez, Keith didn't you wear a jacket?"

"I did, dunno why it just soaked through though."

"How many times do I have to tell you to buy a proper raincoat?" Lance held one of his pullovers against Keith's chest. "Here, you can give it back to me at school." Keith never did.

It smelled so much like Lance, it smelled so much like home.

They sat down on the bed across from each other, Keith wrapped in a blanket in addition to wearing Lance's pullover. 

Lance's face lit up when he took a sip of his coffee. "This," he said and took another sip, "is the most exquisite creation I've ever tasted. Keith Kogane, I owe you my life. Thank you."

Keith smiled and brought the drink up to his lips. 

"Lance, the coffee is fucking cold."

"Yeah, I know, and it also tastes like absolute shit right now. But, you went and got this just for me. You walked twenty minutes in the rain for this! I'm going to love every second i spend drinking it."

God, Keith was really screwed, wasn't he?

 

Lance is drunk. He was downing shot after shot and with each one, Keith's plans to actually talk to him got less realistic.

At least he stuck to Allura and didn't wander off on his own.

Keith really tried to enjoy himself, even though no matter how much he drank, he just wasn't feeling intoxicated at all.

After the seventh shot, he still feels painfully sober and he actively decides to work against that. So maybe he drinks a little too much for his own good, but who really cares? Not him for sure.

His legs slowly start to feel heavy and his head is buzzing and finally, finally he feels the alcohol set in. 

"Keith? I'mmmm... wanna talk to you." Lance's voice rips him out of his bliss and pulls him into the harsh reality of things he can't avoid forever.

He nods, slowly standing up from the barstool, careful not to trip. Then Lance is grabbing him by the hand and pulling him outside.

"What happened?" Lance asks, his eyes wide and searching but still focused enough to make Keith feel cornered.

"What do you mean?" He knows exactly what he means.

Lance looks down at his feet. "What happened to us? To you? What did I do wrong to make you start hating me?"

Keith honest-to-god chokes up. "Lance, I... I could never hate you."

"It sure as hell seems like it."

"Never. There's no way, I could ever, under any circumstances, hate you. I'm so sorry, Lance."

"Then tell me what's going on, please. I don't know how to act around you, I don't even know if you still consider me your friend."

And that hurts, it really does. "I've had my reasons."

Lance shakes his head, finally looking at Keith again, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You want me to let you in on a little secret?"

Yes, so desperately, but Lance is drunk and Keith doesn't know how to deal with that. He's saying too much, he's too open about his feelings and he knows Lance will hate himself in the morning for talking to Keith.

"Lance, don't..."

"You remember the mixtapes, right?"

Keith's heart drops.

"Now this is funny, because, believe it or not, I actually thought it was you." 

His brain is short-circuiting, he absolutely doesn't know what to say or what to do.

"And I really got my hopes up, because I thought 'hey, maybe he likes me'. It's stupid, right?"

Lance is laughing again, as if he just told a joke, as if this wasn't a serious problem, something that's been driving their friendship apart for weeks now.

"Can you imagine? I really thought I had a chance. With you of all people."

Every single word stings in Keith's chest and he feels as if he's going to pass out any second.

"I was so stupid, Keith. As if someone like you could ever like me."

"You're drunk." Is all that Keith says. He's so fucking pathetic.

"What does it matter anyway? Who gives a shit?"

"I do, trust me. You should to bed and sleep this off."

"God, Keith. Just tell me you don't give a shit about me or my feelings and stop fucking dodging."

He doesn't answer, doesn't know how to. The tears that were welling up in his eyes have started to spill, nothing he can do against it. 

"Did you ever just try to fucking think about me in this situation?"

Lance is so, so drunk. 

Keith is panicking, so he bolts.

He just straightens up, looks up at Lance, and runs as far as his legs will take him.

 

The ride back home was awful, to say the least.

He spent three hours pressed up against Lance, trying to take up as little space as possible, music blasting in his earphones on the maximum volume to drown out each and every single thought he had.

Now he's back home, curled up in his bed, his laptop in front of him.

He does the one thing he'd been putting off for a while now. He calls Shiro.

There's the familiar ringing sound for half a minute, then his brother's face pops up on the screen.

"Hey, Shiro." He's so glad to see him again. It's been quite long since the last time, Shiro was busy with college and Keith was off doing his own thing.

"Keith." His brother smiles. "What's up? It's usually always me who has to call."

He sucks in a breath of air. "Yeah, I kind of..." He hesitates, staring at Shiro's questioning face, but then decides to just tell him. "I kind of fucked things up with Lance."

There's silence.

"You did what?" It wasn't anger or disappointment in his voice, just genuine confusion.

Keith tells him, about it all. And if he starts crying halfway through and just turns into a sniffling mess, Shiro doesn't say anything.

"You really are neck-deep in shit, Keith. I'm saying this as your friend and your brother, please talk to him."

"I did, you see how that turned out."

"Yeah, he pretty much told you that he has feelings for you and you only did your infamous panic induced sprint."

"Shiro, he was so drunk, he probably didn't mean any of it. You should've seen him."

"I've known Lance almost as long as I've known you, you can believe me when I say that I think that the both of you are just hopelessly crushing on each other."

"No way."

"Yes way. Talk to him and sort this out. So what if you are right and he only likes you as a friend? What you to have is special, Keith. Don't ruin that."

"I already ruined it." Keith knows he's really just being whiny for the sake of being whiny at this point. He really does not want to get his shit together. Living in uncertainity was better than risking being vulnerable and open.

Shiro sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, if you don't sort this out with Lance, I won't come home for next weekend and you can go to the family dinner on your own."

Keith's mouth fell open. Since Keith was adopted into Shiro's family, all their relatives were... overbearing to say the least. Keith hated family dinners, but he could suffer through them with Shiro at his side. 

"You wouldn't dare-"

"I would, you know that."

"You absolute asshole."

Shiro just laughs and shrugs. Keith deserves it.

 

He's up for so long, trying to figure out how to approach Lance the next day. Eventually he just settles on making another, a final mixtape for Lance.

He wraps it neatly, carefully. This one has to be special. The others were messy handwriting and hastily thrown around. This one was more important than Keith himself.

 

"Lance." Keith says in the hallway when he sees him approaching. The boy doesn't seem to pay him any mind though.

He calls his name again, louder this time, but still gets no reaction.

"Lance!" He's almost yelling when he lunges forward and grabs Lance by the arm.

Lance turns around, stone-faced, his jaw clenched. "What do you want?" He breathes.

It takes all of his willpower to muster up the courage to say something. "I want to talk to you."

"We did that already, remember?" 

Lance sounds positively acidic. 

"God, Lance, I know. But please, hear me out, alright?"

Keith is begging.

Lance wrings his arm from Keith's grip and straightens up. He nods.

Slowly, with careful movements, Keith pulls the mixtape from his bag and hands it to Lance. It takes him a moment to realise what Keith had just given him.

"Don't. Don't say anything, okay?" He pauses. "I made those other two mixtapes as well. That was all me and that was also the reason I've been avoiding you."

Keith casts his gaze down to the floor, to scared to see Lance's reaction. "I've loved you for so long, Lance. You don't even know. I probably didn't know either for the longest time." He smiles a little, despite actually shaking with anxiety. "I thought that I might actually have a chance with you, so I made those mixtapes. When you didn't figure it out, though, I just got so scared, you know? I thought that you were deliberatly naming someone else just to not hurt my feelings, but still I was hurting. I was beating myself up over it, so I tried pushing you away out of self defense.

It's no excuse, I know that. I let my hurt out on you and I'm so sorry."

He feels as if every single word hung in the air around him, they weighed heavy on him, his chest feeling like it was going to collapse in on itself any second.

"I tried pushing you away, but it never worked, because no matter what I do, I always come back to you because you are where it starts and where it ends for me. Every single thing in my life always comes back to you. That's just how it is, isn't it? And that's... That's okay."

His heart is beating so fast, so loud. He forces himself to look up at Lance, his eyes are shining with tears, his knuckles white, still tightening his grip on the mixtape. Keith thinks he might break. 

It's that, and only that, that lets him step away from Lance, because it's final and it almost feels like a goodbye. The very makings of his bones are splintering, his soul is being spliced and severed and there's the cold sense of dread dripping down his spine, because he doesn't know what's going to happen now. 

Whatever happens next, he's going to let it happen, because this is him loving Lance. If Lance wants to leave, he's letting him. He's one thousand percent sure that he's going to be hung up on this boy forever.

"It's always you, Lance."

There's nothing. Absolutely nothing happens for a while. Just him and Lance staring at each other.

Then, he's pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and the world around him is suddenly okay. Lance takes up all his senses, it's almost too much to bear, but it feels like coming home.

Lance doesn't let go for what feels like a small eternity. 

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Is what Lance asks when he pulls back, tears running down his cheeks. He smiles and he's so, so close.

Keith laughs. "Allura said that would be too boring. Had to bring out the big guns for you." And Lance is laughing too. 

And Lance leans forward and Keith doesn't shy away and suddenly they're kissing.

They're kissing and god, Keith has wanted this for so long. Lance's hands are on his hips and it's good, it's good, it's fucking incredible.

"You could do so much better than me, you know that, right?" 

Lance is kissing him again.

"Maybe I don't want anything better."

Keith smiles and wipes his eyes.

"You're an idiot." Lance says and kisses him.

"I know."

"We could've been doing this for so long."

"I know."

 

It's a year later and they're at the beach again. Just him and Lance.

They aren't a fairytale romance, though their friends might insist they are.

They are 3 AM in a diner, laughing their asses off over fries and burgers, they are sitting on the curb under a lamplight trading life stories and they are listening with open ears as well as an open heart and they are being young and quiet love and they are driving too fast down a road, screaming at the moon about how much they love each other and they are bare feet and messy kisses and bruises, but the kind they get from falling and getting back up again and they are worn out vans and scuffed up doc martens by the front door, a closet full of clothes no longer decipherable as belonging to only one of them, and it's the colors red and blue that envelop them both.

Soft music plays while Keith is tracing one of the tattoos Lance got on his arm with his fingers. 

"I love you." Keith says, because it's true. He's so, so in love with Lance and he can't imagine a world where he isn't entirely swept up by him. Doesn't want to.

His entire making, filled to the brim with love, he feels he might burst. 

Lance smiles at him, rolling his eyes. "You're so gay." Keith laughs. "I love you, too."

They stay silent after that, Keith still dragging his fingers across Lance's skin.

After a while, a familiar song starts playing and Keith immediately stills.

"It's the song from your mixtapes." Lance says softly, looking out at the ocean. "The very last."

"Hey now, this was also on my second mix." Keith argues, smiling.

Lance looks at him now. "This was literally the only song on the last mixtape, you old sap." 

Keith leans forward and kisses him. "Well, I'm sorry."

"I think I can forgive that."

Lance reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers. 

_and as I searched your flashing indigo eyes it echoed true, that I loved you_

Keith hums along, squeezing Lance's hand.

He's so happy. Lance is his one and only, Lance is his forever. And it's not just him.

They are each other's forever after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did!!


End file.
